


For In That Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come

by Sev1970 (mk_malfoy)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Frottage, M/M, SUMMER SNARRY FREE FOR ALL MINI-FEST at the Pornicators, SUMMER SNARRY FREE FOR ALL MINI-FEST at the Pornicators LJ, Suicide Attempt, Violence, foreign-object penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-20
Updated: 2006-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Sev1970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMER SNARRY FREE FOR ALL MINI-FEST at the Pornicators LJ: #16: 'Kiss before dying' scenario. War has taken a few years longer than expected (so Harry's over 18), He's just killed Voldemort, but is mortally wounded (or alternately, must die soon himself, because he is a Horcrux & Voldy's soul could take over at any moment). Prefer things to be initiated by Harry, and that neither of them meant things to go that far. IC Snape is great, but don't make him too stoic. Ending may be predictable tragic or shock/surprise happy. If going for a Harrycrux, bonus if Voldy nearly takes over at one or two points.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For In That Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come

**Title**: For In That Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come  
**Author/Artist**:  Sev1970  
**Date Written**: June 20-25, 2006  
**Kink(s) **: Foreign object penetration  
**Warnings**: Language, Character Death, non-con  
**Pairings**: SS/HP  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Challenge**: SUMMER SNARRY FREE FOR ALL MINI-FEST at the Pornicators LJ: #16: 'Kiss before dying' scenario. War has taken a few years longer than expected (so Harry's over 18), He's just killed Voldemort, but is mortally wounded (or alternately, must die soon himself, because he is a Horcrux &amp; Voldy's soul could take over at any moment). Prefer things to be initiated by Harry, and that neither of them meant things to go that far. IC Snape is great, but don't make him too stoic. Ending may be predictable tragic or shock/surprise happy. If going for a Harrycrux, bonus if Voldy nearly takes over at one or two points.  
**Words**: 3,000  
**Disclaimer**: I own nothing Harry Potter, that would be J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.  
**Beta**: Magdelena - OMG she gave me the perfect line to use near the end of the fic - genius, I tell you!  
**A/N**: Title is from William Shakespeare's play _Hamlet._

~*~

Harry looked down and examined his body, wondering how it could be that he was alive, then he looked at Madam Pomfrey.  He could see the shock on her face as she continued to scan his body with her wand.  "What happened?  I thought I was going to die.  I heard you telling them there was nothing to be done for me, and that I would die within minutes."

Madam Pomfrey sighed, shaking her head, a sad look on her face, and then told Harry the truth: that someone had placed a death curse on him after he fell. It was not unlike _Avada__ Kedavra_; the only difference being that this was a slow-working curse.  One by one, all of Harry's organs would fail, and he would die when his body lacked that which it needed to survive.

Harry never broke a sweat at hearing the prognosis, just as Madam Pomfrey never shook as she told him. Both had known this day was coming, and both had expected this bleak outcome.  Perhaps not in this manner, but …

Nodding, Harry climbed out of bed. He hadn't much time, and he didn't plan to spend his remaining hours in a bloody hospital bed.  "There's something I need to do."

Madam Pomfrey tried to force him back into bed, but a belligerent Harry practically yelled at her before storming out and slamming the door.

He ran as quickly as he could to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, unlocked the door, then locked it behind him. 

Confident that he would not be interrupted, Harry then made his way to the front of the room—more specifically, the desk—and opened the bottom drawer. 

He carefully withdrew the large Pensieve.

Within seconds—there was no time to lose—he began withdrawing memories from his mind and placing them into the Pensieve with an almost reverent ease.  He allowed a few precious seconds to look at each swirling memory before continuing on to the next.  

Although nervous, Harry was already feeling better about what he was doing. At least something good would come from his death.  He only wished he could see his former teacher's reaction when he saw these memories.

It was better this way.

Even as Harry still hated Snape more than he thought possible, the Death Eater (once one, always one, no matter the reason) had been working with the Order since before Harry's birth, and had made it possible for Harry to kill Voldemort.

Actions such as those did not warrant wrath, but understanding.  Harry had tried for months to understand everything, but he hadn't reached that level of forgiveness yet and knew now that he never would.  But, he could atone for his thoughts, at least, somewhat. 

Hermione would be pleased.

She had implored Harry to talk to Snape; she thought the two could help one another.  Harry'd laughed at the absurdity of such a statement.  Hermione then reminded him that Snape had been tortured repeatedly by both Voldemort and the other Death Eaters, yet not once had he ever wavered in his loyalty to the Order.

Yes, yes, Snape had gone above and beyond the call of duty.  Harry had heard it all before.  Was it his fault that he couldn't forgive the man for some of his past deeds?

Perhaps it was.

Death upon him now, Harry thought it time he let go of this animosity.

When he finished extricating the memories he needed Snape to view, Harry returned the Pensieve to the drawer, closed it, then left the room …

… and the castle. He was going to die, and now he could die in peace.

Harry walked to the Quidditch dressing rooms. Finding a broom, he took off and began flying.  He hadn't flown in six months. This was freedom, and it made Harry feel alive.

Soon enough, he was going to die: He could feel his body already weakening.

He didn't care.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, but Harry couldn't be bothered to care about anyone else. He was so very tired of being the center of attention.

Death would certainly put an end to that problem.

Not that he would have chosen to escape the constant adulation and expectation in such a morbid manner, but since Harry had no choice … at least he would be able to see his mum, dad, and all the others he had lost. 

It wouldn't be all bad.

Five minutes after he took to the air, Harry was about as high as he had ever been above the pitch, and he was flying recklessly—zigzagging and doing figure eights both horizontally and vertically.

Harry did this, not to be reckless, but because it made him feel so very alive, and he needed to feel alive for as long as he could.  But …

… This gave him an idea. He couldn't do anything to prevent his death, but he could control _how _it happened. Pain was one thing Harry had never handled well, and the thought of an excruciatingly slow death scared him.  How would it feel to not be able to breathe?  He didn't wish to experience that particular sensation, and he guessed there would be others just as scary.

Looking at the ground, Harry smiled. He was far enough above the pitch, and he knew he could get the broom to accelerate at such a speed that he would most certainly die on impact. 

He was going to end his life on his terms. 

He didn't even think about it, just began the downward descent. He gained speed as he went, and could feel the wind rushing at his ears. It was a high, even moments from death.

Harry could see the ground more and more clearly, and closed his eyes. This was it.

He was ready to see his parents, Sirius, Cedric, and Dumbledore.

Everything went black.

~*~

"Wake up, Potter, you are not going to die on me, you ingrate."

Harry cracked open an eye and groaned. Staring at him was none other than Severus Snape.  Where were they?  Harry tried to glance around the room, but each movement of his head sent stabbing pains throughout his body.  He felt as if he were floating.  And was that music playing in the background?  It sounded like a harp.  And was that a dog barking?  What was going on?  "What happened?" Harry tried to say, but he wasn't at all sure anyone could understand his gibberish.  He felt as if he'd … well, as if he'd hit the ground hard.  The pain was unbearable and he wanted Snape to cease all sound.  His head was about to explode. 

"Stupid boy; you should learn how to do it correctly if you want to kill yourself. I so hated to interrupt your plans, but your little confession you left me an hour ago has me rather intrigued, and I want some answers before you die."

"I have nothing to say to you, Snape."  Harry closed his eyes.

"No? Shall I repeat what you wrote?  Should I tell you what my reply to your request is?" Snape asked, dangling parchment in front of Harry.

Harry gulped.  He must have dropped the parchment as he was leaving Snape's room earlier. He hadn't meant Snape to see it because there was nothing to be gained from it now. "I don't care what you have to say."  And even if he did care what Snape said, what would it matter … now?

"You will hear what I have to say, Potter," spat out Snape, "because I've waited twelve years to tell you this: You are filth, Harry Potter, just like your Muggle mother was. You may have been the Boy-Who-Lived, but to me, you were, and are, nothing.  Because of you, my life has been hell on Earth. I had to be your protector from day one. I had to do whatever it took in order for you to be safe. I had to whore myself, and I had to endure endless hours of torture … all for you. I wanted so badly to let you kill yourself; it would have served you right. However, this newly acquired information you have so ineloquently left me, requires a response, and I wouldn't miss this opportunity for all the Galleons in the world."

Harry tensed, then opened his eyes. "Stop your fucking dramatics, Snape, and just tell me so I can get on with it. Your face is not at all what I want to be looking at right now."

Harry wasn't sure what happened next, but he found himself rolling around, kicking, biting, scratching at Snape—and anything else he could do—while him and Snape screamed indiscernible words at one another.

How he was able to do any of this, he had no idea.  Every inch of his body was on fire with pain, and he thought that alone would kill him.  It was as if his body was moving of its own accord, despite the intense pain.

Harry wished death would hurry.

An undeterminable amount of time later, Harry tried sitting up, but was pushed back down and gasped as his trousers were ripped open.  A momentary bout of fear overtook him, but then he let it go.  He probably deserved this.  "Oh, so are we going to resort to rape now? I certainly didn't know you swung that way, Snape."

"Shut up, Potter, I wish I could say the same about you. Perhaps you should have been a little more careful when you were confessing your _oh so sorrowful wishes to me_." He threw the parchment to the ground.

Harry refused to look at it. "I didn't mean it."

"Oh, Mr Potter, I was hoping you had, because of all the things I've done in my life, being a rapist is by far the worst, and I was so hoping that was all in the past. However, how could I allow you to die without your last wish being granted?  I can hear your irritating voice now. _I hate him. I want him to make love to me. I want him to make me feel,"_ Snape said in a high-pitched eerie sounding voice. "Very endearing words, Potter. Shall I continue?"

"That's not about you."

"Well, then I guess this isn't going to be enjoyable for you. Pity." Snape waved his wand over himself and was soon naked.  He sneered.

Harry was next.  Within a second, he was also naked, and then he felt as a naked Snape crawled on top of him and pinned him beneath him. "Get off," Harry screamed.

"No, no, Potter, you should be careful where you leave your little love notes. No, I intend on making you mine for what little time you have left," Snape said as he frotted against Harry.

This continued for a few more minutes.  Harry fought for the first few minutes, but then all of the fight went out of him as Snape sat up and pushed Harry's legs up so that they were on either side of his face, and his arse was almost directly above his face.  It hurt so bad, but then the pain doubled when Snape entered him without any preparation.  Harry felt the tears as they fell down his face.  Snape was ravaging his body. Harry thought he was going to be split in two.  This went on for what Harry thought must have been hours, then he was roughly turned over and entered again.  Where before it had seemed to be about Snape wanting to humiliate Harry, it now seemed to be about Snape satisfying his own needs.  He slammed into Harry and grunted with each thrust.  Harry, as completely bereft and helpless as he was, tried to make light of what was happening.  As Snape readjusted his aim once again, Harry decided that Snape must be altering his trajectory for the greatest return on his investment. 

Snape probably never got any, and now that he was getting some, he was making the most of it. 

Harry actually grinned.  Hadn't he had rape fantasies about Snape?  Oh yes, he had had many.  Most of them had had happy endings, but a few had ended violently  Well, this was definitely not a dream, but it was going to end violently. 

Nevertheless, Harry had got what he had always wanted, hadn't he?

Harry felt as if he were flying towards his goal.  He reached out for it but knew he'd be unable to get away with Snape's body atop his.  He began asking Snape to stop.  "Please, Snape, please!" 

Snape continued to pull himself out and push back in, again and again for what seemed like hours, until he emptied himself. When he pulled out for the final time, he turned Potter over and covered him with his body.

Those black eyes, ones that usually looked at Harry with contempt, now looked at him sorrowfully.  Harry was confused, but, then again, he really wasn't.  It made sense in a strange sort of way.

"I don't want you to die, Potter" said a soft-spoken Severus Snape.  He raised his right hand and moved a bit of fringe from Harry's eyes.  

Harry managed a slight smirk.  What a dysfunctional moment this was.  Here he has: lying on a cold stone floor, naked; he had just been raped; he was about to die from some curse; he'd failed at his suicide attempt, and his former professor didn't wish him to die.  If physically able, Harry would have laughed.  "Could it be that the greasy git has feelings for Harry Potter?"

Snape said nothing, but lowered his head and kissed Harry on the lips, and, within seconds, both men were moaning into each other's mouths. Severus ground into Harry, who, remarkably, was hard, despite the recent assault to his anus.

Within seconds, a loud grunt escaped as Harry found his release. He saw stars.  "You know I still hate you, Snape."  And he did.  He really did.

Snape stood and began to dress himself.  "I was about to say the same, Potter. I am revolted by what we have partaken in, but sometimes we have to do bad things no matter how wrong we know they are.  I've killed and raped more times than you could imagine, and no matter if you believe me or not, none of those rapes or deaths were pleasurable for me.  But, it is the only way I seem to be able to have any control.  I can choose to do what I want to do, no matter if others hate me or not.  I do not take kindly to little boys making deathbed confessions of love, and most certainly, I do not appreciate my feelings being toyed with, Potter.  You really are as bad as your father was, but I must say, you are a better fuck than he was. He never could bring me to orgasm."

Harry lifted his head and glared at Snape, who was donning his cloak. "I rather think that was your problem, not his."

Snape backhanded Harry with his right hand, and then turned Harrry over and forced Harry's already battered and bloodied arse open before summoning Harry's broomstick from the other side of the room. In one motion, Severus buried the broom as far as he could inside Harry, only stopping his movement when Harry groaned in pain.

Snape began twisting the broom, eliciting deafening screams from Harry. Then he spelled the broomstick to break so that only a nub was visible for him to hold onto. Snape then pointed the wand at himself and divested himself once again, then covered Harry's body with his own and entered Harry's already occupied arse, nudging the broomstick in further as he lifted out and re-entered the now screaming Harry.

Harry's screams intensified, but after several minutes, he groaned as he came for a second time. Severus did not stop his thrusts until he also orgasmed, quite a while later.

Still breathing uncontrollably, Harry turned his head so he could see Severus, who was still inside him. "Under different circumstances, I think I could have learned to like you," Harry said, his voice now a mere whisper as he laid his head down and closed his eyes.

~*~

Poppy Pomfrey looked up as someone entered the room. "Severus, where have you been?  We've been trying to find you for hours.  Harry has been repeatedly screaming, crying, and calling out your name since you and Remus brought him in this afternoon. You shouldn't have left him alone.  You knew he was going to die.  I tried to keep him comfortable, but he couldn't be comforted.  He only stopped calling for you five minutes ago, when he could no longer breathe."

Severus couldn't speak.  He had been too late.  Finally he managed to breathe.  "Is he … gone?"

 

"Yes. Not even a minute ago," Poppy said, looking sadly at Severus, who was staring at Harry, his hands shaking as one of them reached up and moved some fringe from Harry's eyes.  She left the room.

Severus sat on the bed, gathered the limp body of Harry Potter to him, and caressed the still warm chin.  This wasn't how it should have ended.  Harry had been able to let Severus know how he felt, but Severus hadn't been given that opportunity, and now he would never be able to tell Harry how he felt.

Harry deserved to know the truth.  But now it was too late.   Severus brought Harry to him and hugged him tightly to him, as if someone was trying to pry the two apart.  Then he looked at Harry's peaceful face. 

This lovely young child had not deserved his lot in life, just as Severus hadn't deserved his.  Severus shook his head.

 "Sweet Dreams, Harry."

~*~

The End


End file.
